


Why Wasn't I Notified?

by DellaVie



Category: Supernatural, Ten Inch Hero
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-05
Updated: 2008-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DellaVie/pseuds/DellaVie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seems Priestly isn't the only one who doesn't know what the hell's going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written prior to actually watching Ten Inch Hero. Any continuity errors or character inaccuracies are all my own.

Priestly stepped into what he liked to call his own little slice of temptation. Not heaven, because he was pretty sure in heaven the hot chicks actually slept with you. Here, they just gave him that raised eyebrow.

"Mornin' ladies." He surveyed the room, nodding to the man at the counter, who for some reason was staring at him like he'd decided to shave his hair down, let it be coloured naturally, and wear normal clothes. It was a little unnerving. And awkward. _Dude, say something_...

When the rather - freakishly - rather freakishly tall man kept just kept staring, Priestly nodded a rushed, "And customer," before heading to the back, out of sight before the guy tried any pick-up lines. Of COURSE he had to wear the kilt today. Damnit.

"Don't pay Priestly any mind, he always looks like that," He heard Piper explain.

"Well," Jen chimed in, "His hair was blue yesterday. I guess he thinks pink is more becoming."

Note for later, kill Jen.

"I'm sorry," the sasquatch sounded a little confused, "Did you say his name was Priestly?"

"Only for the last thirty years," Priestly replied, very cleverly (stupidly) walking back into the line of sight. He knew he should be polite and ask his name, but that might be misconstrued as an interest in something _other_ than his name, and he wouldn't live it down, what with Piper standing right there. Jen maybe, because he had to kill her later.

So, having not said anything else, they lapsed back into that awkward silence. Though the stranger's expression had changed from one of stunned disbelief to pensieve, like Priestly had just become the newest jigsaw puzzle.

"For Christ's sake buddy, order something and quit leering at me, will ya?"

Priestly turned away to the grill, actually cleaning the thing for the first time in.... How long? Just to avoid looking at Mr. No-name. He snuck a glance at Piper, she was enjoying this way too much. He'd have to kill her too. To illustrate his point, he waited until she looked his way, and raised the knife threateningly. She snorted and turned away, though he could still see her shaking visibly from laughter.

Jen suddenly swiped a piece of paper through his mohawk, like it was a credit card machine or something, and he found himself making two footlong subs, both the works, one with extra onion.

As he started cooking the meat, Tish came through the door with a breezy, "Morning everyone! You won't _believe_ the night I had yester.... Oh, hello." Tish had obviously seen the man, now leaning against the wall. And if the 'hello' was anything to go by, she liked what she saw.

Figures.

"He's gay Tish!" Priestly called, not turning around, so he missed the slight pout on her face, and the annoyed look that passed over the man's face. Like this had happened before or something.

Still, Tish smiled politely at him, then went to tell Jen and Piper all about her night. However she didn't get much out of her mouth, before they silenced her, filled her in on what she'd missed, and were now staring at the mysterious man who was now talking very quietly on his cell.

Aside from the sizzle of the grill, it was the only other noise in the normally active establishment, which made it quite easy to make out the conversation. Well, half of it anyway;

"Dean? You don't want to meet me at the sub shop... No, nothing like that... Trust me on this... I'm not sure, I'm still trying to figure it out... Doesn't seem like a threat... Dude, I... Fine, you know what Dean? Come right in. I don't care." He hung up and ran his hand through his hair before coming to some sort of a decision.

Striding up to the counter, he was cut off by Piper, "I couldn't help but overhear, and I just want you to know that we don't have a problem with orientation. Priestly was a bit of a jerk, but don't take anything he says in the literal sense. Or any sense at all, actually. You're quite welcome to stay."

The reaction she expected probably wasn't an exasperated sigh. "Uhh, thanks," He really wasn't. "But I just wanted to know if you had a flashlight I could borrow?"

Unexpected reactions were abound as Piper blinked. "Uhh.... sure...." The Silence of the Damned returned as she went out back to find a flashlight. When she returned, he smiled politely and thanked her.

"Umm," Tish now, it seemed he was talking to, "I don't want your friend to get the wrong impression." He paused, redirecting, "Priestly, is it?"

 _Don't look up, don't look up, don't...._ he waved a hand to signal he was listening.

"I'm not gay, you just reminded me of someone." When Priestly still didn't look him in the eye, he added. "I understand if you're disappointed now that I just ruined your dream."

Okay, that does it. Turning around, Priestly was going to -

"Ahh, the fuck!?"

...Get a whole lot of flashlight to the eye, apparently.

After a few seconds the light slowly clicked off, a confused expression on his attacker's face. Like he expected something else to happen other than momentary blindness. Could this day get anymore weird?

The front door banged. "Sammy, what the hell's taking so..."

Apparently it could.


	2. Chapter 2

When the shock of seeing someone who looked - and sounded - like him wore off, he realised that his doppelgänger had a gun levelled at his head.

Priestly raised his hands in surrender. "Hey buddy, calm down."

The gun held steady. It wasn't until the other guy – _Sammy?_ \- slowly put his hand on the top of the gun that the guy even looked away. "Dean," It was a loaded statement, Priestly could tell. Loaded with what, he had no idea.

Dean looked over at Sammy and a conversation comprised entirely of facial expressions took place. Using the distraction, Priestly checked on his girls.

Piper was frozen, her eyes focused solely on the gun, and had yet to glimpse the person holding it.

Jen had, and was contemplating him with a frown. It wouldn't take long for her to figure it out.

And Tish? Well, Tish's hands were saying, "Don't shoot!" but her face was... Checking. Him. Out. _Oh, for crying out loud Tish!_

Wait a minute, if she would check _him_ out, then it stands to reason she would... _Oh, yeah_.

Priestly was about to make a comment about that, but Jen cut him off,

"HOLY FRACK!"

It looks like she had it sorted, especially if the way she was looking frantically from him to Dean and back was any indication.

Dean and Sammy paused in their conversation, until they realised what she had just noticed, then went back to quiet murmuring. Piper and Tish both snapped out of their reveries and looked at Jen, though still slightly distracted.

After a minute of fruitless gesturing, Priestly rolled his eyes, coughed, and when they looked his way, pointed to his face, and then Dean's. Piper cocked her head. Tishs' eyes widened. Jen decided to help them out,

"I didn't know you had a brother."

"I don't."

Jen raised an eyebrow. "The next time you say it's not a full house; remind me not to believe you."

That's right, he remembered now. Jen was going to die.

"If he's not your brother, then how do you explain...?” Piper waved between the two.

"I don't. Why do I gotta be the one to explain everything?"

"Why is he pointing a gun at you?" Tish added.

Priestly stared at her. "Okay, you were here a second ago when I said I didn't know, right?"

Realising that Priestly wasn't going to be forthcoming in the information department, they turned to the customer and his gun-wielding manic of a friend. Their conversation was growing more frustrated by the second.

"Okay then Sam, what the hell is he then?" He still had the gun trained. Priestly moved to the left. It followed.

"As far as I can tell, he's a normal person, just like you and me."

"Sam, _that_ ," he tilted the gun for emphasis, "is not normal."

"Hey!"

It took Priestly a few seconds to realise that he wasn't the only one defending his honour, or fashion sense. He turned to the three women indignant on his behalf and smiled. His next, "Heyyyy," was a bit more smug and slightly suggestive.

On cue, they rolled their eyes. He bet they practiced that when he wasn't around.

"What's your name?" Dean demanded.

"Priestly."

Dean looked annoyed. "Priestly.....?"

"Hey," Tish cut in, "if you're not going to shoot, can you put the gun down? It's making some of us nervous?"

She was talking about Piper, he knew. She was still a little uncomfortable, and wouldn't take her eyes off it.

Dean glanced at her a second, then at Sam, who was nodding as though to encourage a five year-old. Dean lowered the weapon and then smacked Sam upside the head. Sam glared.

Dean ignored Sam, instead turning back to Priestly and clearing his throat. "Well?"

Priestly met his stare. "Well what?"

After a beat, Dean had obviously decided Priestly was in the same boat as him, and tried another track. "Where's our food?"

Jen, who had since shied away from the conversation when the boys entered it, went off to finish filling their order.

Sam rolled his eyes and bridged the gaping hole between them. "I'm Sam, and this is my brother Dean."

"Wait, _you're_ brothers?" Tish was incredulus. "Then what about..." She gestured to Priestly.

"Where you are now? I'm right there with you." Dean stepped up next to her. "See?" He smiled, and his eyes blinked from her face, down, and back up again.

Tish smiled back.

A siren wailed.

The brothers shared a glance, and looked out the window. A cruiser could be seen coming down the street.

"Think you'd best give it up boys," Trucker advised, entering from the back.

"You called the cops on us?" When Trucker nodded, Dean sighed. "That's just... great."

Sam, who was watching the oncoming law, turned around, and spotted the back room through the kitchen. "Dean, let's go."

Sam darted behind the counter, and was halfway out the door before he realised that Dean hadn't followed.

"Dean, hurry up! What are you...?”

He was waiting for Jen to wrap his sub, of course.

"Come onDean, we don't have time for this! Do you _want_ Henricksen to catch you?"

Dean scoffed, "Sam, chill. This isn't the FBI, it's the 'Sheriff's Department' - like they're gonna catch us."

The two cars had since pulled up, and the men were slowly making their way to the door, guns drawn.

Dean smiled, and while Jen was staring at the approaching police, took his lunch from Jens' hands and replaced it with a twenty-dollar bill. "Keep the change."

He followed Sam out the back door seconds before the local law enforcement entered the front.

There was an awkward silence when the police realised there was no threat, and the girls didn't quite know how to explain what had just transpired.

Priestly broke it in the only way he knew how; "Well, there's something you don't see every day."


	3. Chapter 3

Priestly was in an interrogation room, drumming his hands on the tabletop and slightly annoyed at the four hours he'd been sitting in said room with nothing to do except drum his hands on the tabletop. He made sure to bang out the same repetitive tune, in hopes that whomever watched from behind the glass was getting as annoyed as he currently was.

When the police had asked what happened, the employees of Beach City Grill stumbled for a minute before stapling together an explanation. When they asked for a description, everyone pointed at Priestly.

"But without the mohawk, and the dye. And the piercings. And the kilt. Y'know, normal." Tish added.

"As always Tish, your opinion of me fills my heart with joy."

Then came the hard part. Yes, they looked alike. No, they weren't related. Their names were Sam and Dean, and no, they didn't know their last name.

The police had taken Priestly's drivers licence - the only photo of him resembling normal - and the names to run a search. And when they returned, they immediately took him into custody.

Apparently Sam hadn't been joking when he mentioned the FBI on their trail. Because now he was sitting here waiting for some fed who was apparently after Dean Winchester for a list of crimes which Priestly was getting blamed for. Murder was one of them. Theft, as well. Grave desecration - that one slightly disturbed him.

When Priestly ran out of things to mull, he looked around the room for what had to be the seven hundred and eighteenth time and came to the same conclusion on how bland it was. And with nothing else to occupy him, his head got up close and personal with the table and he fell asleep.

It was in this state that Henricksen and Reidy found him half an hour later. When Priestly didn't acknowledge his presence, he eyed his attire. "I gotta admit, that probably was the last place I'd think to look."

When the only reply he received was the distinct sound of snoring, he tossed a manilla folder onto the table, making sure it hit Priestly.

Very slowly, Priestly raised his head, his face showing that he was clearly only half-present. "Hunh?"

"Miss me?" Henricksen spun the chair around and sat on it.

Priestly looked at Henricksen for the longest time, trying to blink away his sleep before replying. "You the FBI guy?"

Henricksen smiled. "Cute. But if you think for a second that amnesia is going to get you out of this, we've got some bad news for you."

"You're mistaken." Reidy finished.

"No, you are," Priestly looked at them both. "I'm not this Dean Winchester guy. My name's Priestly. Always has been, always will be. I've lived here my whole life, and never set foot in Missouri. Or Milwaukee. I went to Chicago once, but there's no power on Earth that can make me tell you _that_ story."

Henricksen made a face that said he clearly didn't believe him. "Now see, I don't know any rock band members named Priestly."

He gestured to the folder on the table. "Stepped up your game, I see. Gone from women to little girls. What's the matter - couldn't wait for them to grow up?"

"The hell you talking about? Look, I can prove it. Let me have the phone call I'm supposed to be entitled to, and I can ring seven people who can swear I have been in this town every day for the last two years... Well, here long enough that I couldn't've killed those people."

Henricksen and Reidy shared a look that conveyed how much they doubted it, before Reidy pulled out a cell phone and tossed it across the table.

"Alright, let's see those people."

Priestly picked up the phone, and was about to dial when what he was sure was Jack Bauer's tone trilled from the phone. He slowly handed it back.

Reidy took the phone and answered it. His face turned to surprise as he looked at Priestly.

Henricksen caught him staring. "What?"

"He says it's Dean Winchester." And handed the phone over to Henricksen.

After a few minutes of conversation, with Henricksen's face growing more and more agitated, he hung up. Turning to the mirror, he gestured to Priestly, "Get him out of here." before barging out of the room.

Priestly blinked at the abruptness, and then turned to the mirror, smiling. "You heard the man."


	4. Chapter 4

It was an hour after closing when he walked back into the Beach City Grill, only to find everyone still present. He also found himself looking into a mirror again.

Before he could start anything, Trucker held a hand to stop him, and nodded to a seat that was waiting for him. He sat down. "Alright, someone feel free to explain this any time now."

They all looked to Trucker, who swallowed. "Well, when you were arrested, the cops wouldn't believe that you weren't him," he gestured to Dean, who seemed to find the deep fryer fascinating and didn't respond. "Even after two hours of evidence to the contrary."

Jen picked it up; "So Trucker drove around looking for their car. He found them at a motel, and was going to call it in, but-"

"Sam pulled out the puppy-eyes and convinced him that we're not that bad guys." Dean concluded.

Priestly was incredulous. "Not the bad guys? You're a murderer!"

"Just hear them out," Trucker seemed to trust them, so they listened.

"I didn't kill those people."

"Then who did?"

"Honestly? A shape-shifter."

Crickets could be heard chirping. Jen shut the window.

"A... shape... shifter." Tish sounded it out, and no one missed the unspoken accusation of insanity.

Dean shrugged. "Crazy, but true."

"You expect us to believe that?" Piper asked.

Dean gestured between Priestly and himself and repeated, "Crazy, but true."

"Yeah, but that's just freaky, not _insane_." Tish said.

"Why are you telling us this?" Jen looked from one brother to the other.

Sam sighed. "Because we need your help."

Priestly blinked. "With finding a nuthouse that has good cable?"

"Recently there's been four young girls that have been murdered, maybe you've heard about them?" The look on their faces was of the affirmative, "Well, we've been investigating them."

"Investigating or instigating?" Priestly cut in.

"Look, we didn't have to get you out," Dean pointed out.

"Yes you did!" Priestly argued.

"No we didn't."

"If you hadn't killed those people-"

"I didn't kill them!"

"Fine, if you hadn't turned yourself into a wanted fugitive, then they wouldn't've arrested me." He re-iterated.

"If you didn't look like me, then you wouldn't have to worry about that."

"Right, like I have a say in how I look."

"The evidence to the contrary is overwhelming."

As fun as it was to watch Dean argue with himself... sorta. Sam could only see one way this would end, and decided to interrupt before Dean pulled his gun out again. "Regardless of whose fault it was, the fact that we helped you out let Henricksen know we're in town. And we can't leave until we find out who this spirit is and stop them from killing again."

"Wait, did you say spirit? As in ghost?" Piper looked to Trucker. "Did he say ghost?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"And you have no problem believing," Priestly waved a hand around the room, "this?"

"You should too, they're not making it up."

Jen looked at him. "Are you saying ghosts are real?"

"Yeah."

"How do you know?"

Trucker looked to Sam and an impatient Dean, "Some other time, but for now, just bear with us, okay?"

Sam resumed the conversation. "We're not asking for much. Just to trust us, and not call the cops"

"Until we're two states away, at least." Dean added.

"That's nice and all, but you guys are _murderers_." Tish emphasised. "Crazy murderers even - why should we trust you?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Are you dead?"

"Not yet," Priestly muttered.

"But you have a gun, and you were going to kill him," Tish reminded them of their first encounter.

"But he didn't," Sam countered.

"But..." Tish was starting to crumble.

"Look, if you don't believe us, that's fine. We'll leave. But more people are going to die unless we stop this spirit. Do you really want that to happen?"

Jen threw her hands in the air, "Listen to yourself, this is madness!"

"No, this is SPARTA!"

When everyone looked at Priestly, he took a step back. "...Probably not the best time for it."

Dean redirected their attention back to the matter at hand. "You people don't think it's weird that all the victims are little girls?"

"It could be a serial killer. Oh look, I'm talking to one right now." Jen realised the full impact of what she said and froze. So did Piper. And Tish.

Sam shared a look with Dean, and after a brief, unspoken conversation, Dean rolled his eyes and left the restaurant.

"What my brother means," Sam spoke slowly, "Is don't you think it's weird that all the victims are exactly eight years and seven months old, and died by drowning at precisely 9:16 at night, yet none of them were anywhere near water at the time?"

Piper paled. "Eight years and seven months?"

Sam's expression went from pleading to concerned in 0.002 seconds. "Yes. Do you know someone, or..." He trailed off as she inhaled sharply.

Eyes glittering in fear, she finally managed to respond; "Julia."


	5. Chapter 5

While Tish was trying to calm a panicked Piper down, Jen explained to Sam about Julia, and by extension, Noah.

Sam called Dean back, filled him in, and the brothers decided that Dean would watch them while Sam went out on research. Realising he might need help, Jen offered to go too. Priestly, still not trusting Dean, affirmed that he would be tagging along with Piper's party, which also included Tish.

After Piper rang ahead to let Noah know they were coming, Dean pulled the impala up, the four of them got out and Dean rummaged through the trunk while the others waited on the porch.

When Noah answered the door, he quickly got over his shock at seeing 'Priestly's brother', who was 'in town for some "S'n'S" (Surf and Sun - Dean just blinked), and asked what was so urgent they had to show up at eight o'clock at night.

In their rambling on some story about needing to introduce Dean before he left town - "What?" - they stumbled into Piper saying the exact right thing. That she missed Julia, and they didn't want her to be alone.

Goodheartedly, he let them in. It wasn't until half an hour later when Julia and a very relieved Piper were watching Disney, that Noah thought to ask why the others were still sitting at his table drinking coffee.

"I haven't seen this movie before," Priestly indicated to _Anastasia._

Dean rolled his eyes. "We're taking her home. But," he inclined his head to the two sitting on the lounge, "don't ruin this for her."

Noah saw what Dean did, and his eyes softened before nodding and joining them on the couch.

When he was out of earshot, Dean levelled Priestly with a look. " 'Haven't seen this movie' - what are you, five?"

"And a half!" Priestly protested.

They lapsed into a silence, which was spent with Tish deciding that maybe Dean wasn't so bad, and some light flirting which eventually dissolved into what can only be described as eye-sex, while an unimpressed Priestly sat in between them.

When Priestly sighed dramatically they immediately stopped, because his breath had come out in an icy puff.

"Piper," Dean called, standing up.

The Television flickered off. Then the lights.

Priestly and Tish followed Dean to the lounge, where Piper and Julia were clinging to Noah for dear life.

"Alright, everyone stay calm," Dean's smooth baritone helped ease their panic, if only a little.

Well, until he pulled out a shotgun.

Priestly stepped between him and the others. "I knew it."

Deans' eyes went from scanning the room to demeaning Priestly. "It's for the ghost."

"Right, because dead people are afraid of guns."

He was about to retort when he heard something. "Shh."

"Don't tell me to-"

Dean cocked the gun. Priestly shut up.

A quiet sob emanated from behind Piper's shoulder, and the group turned as one to see a petite little brunette, dressed in a dripping, white nightgown flickering towards them. She couldn't be more than five. Water pooled at her feet as she neared them looking only at Julia. Her voice was gargled, **_Stop... please stop..._**

The group backed away, as Dean strode forward to take point. He aimed the barrel and blasted rock salt into her, scattering her away for the moment.

Seeing their faces, he explained. "Rock salt, it's a spirit deterrant."

Noah looked confused. "What the hell's going on?"

Instead of answering, Dean unloaded another shot into the girl who had returned, just as she was reaching out for Julia.

He quickly reloaded the gun and pumped it, waiting.

Silence.

More waiting.

More silence.

Dean remembered something and pulled a small object from his pocket, waving it about the room.

When it remained silent, he slowly put it back in his pocket and relaxed. "She's gone. I think she  missed her chance."

"Who the hell is she?" Tish said a little loudly, evidence of her frazzled nerves.

"Was, and I don't know. You okay?" He looked at both Piper and Julia, and after receiving a confirmation turned to the others.

Noah was having a hard time putting it together, and said as much. Tish caught Dean's weary look and offered to explain, for which Dean smiled graciously at her. Piper seemed to take her lead in deciding that taking action was the best way to overcome her shock and bustled into the kitchen to make some more coffee, or in Julia’s, hot chocolate.

That left Priestly.

"You okay there?" Dean asked, shouldering his sawn-off.

Priestly, who had been gaping at the spot the ghost last was, blinked. "A ghost. She was a ghost. Ghosts are real."

"Yeahhhhh....?"

This was too much for Priestly to take. Hearing about it and seeing it first-hand were two very different things, and as the world started spinning, Dean's voice sounded like an endless note blurring into nothingness until the ground rose up to meet him and he blacked out.

If he had been awake, he would have seen Dean look down at him and shake his head. "Dude, you're such a pansy."


	6. Chapter 6

When Priestly regained consciousness over an hour later, he found himself sprawled on the couch, soft voices coming from the table.

Stretching, he made his way over to the others, noting that Julia had already been put to bed.

"What was that thing you had?" Piper asked.

"It's an EMF meter."

"Unbelievable," Priestly deadpanned.

"They can detect a ghost's presence," Dean explained, before turning to Priestly. "Are you okay?" His voice was overly soft, like he might faint any second. Patronising.

Bastard.

 _Well, two can play at that game_. "I have a boo-boo." Priestly raised his elbow, "Want to kiss it and make it better?"

Dean blinked. "I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear you say that. Ever."

"So...." Tish looked around the table. "What do we do now?"

 

=.=

 

"...And then he friggin' _fainted_. Like a girl."

After dropping everyone at their respective homes, Dean met Sam at the motel that night and told him that the spirit was a girl, which nullified all of Sam's research thus far. They agreed to sleep it off and start again in the morning.

Nine hours later, they were sitting in the local library, with Sam prodding Dean for more details about the case, which seemed to be sidelined in favour of him bitching about Priestly.

"Why do you care?" Sam asked.

"I don't."

"Then why are you talking about it?"

"I'm not."

"Hmm." Sam smiled. _Five, four, three, two..._

"It's just - I don't want it getting around that there's someone out there, who looks like me, dresses like a whacko, and faints at little girls in white dresses."

"And it has nothing to do with the fact he's normal." Sam raised an eyebrow knowingly.

"Dude, he wears a kilt. Who the hell wears a kilt?"

Sam looked at him, the corners of his mouth hitching up. "Apparently you do."

Sam ducked the oncoming book and sobered up. "You know what I mean, Dean. If this were some shifter or demon or weird creature that we've yet to come across, you'd just shoot them... or set them on fire," Sam added, recalling Dean's tendency to solve every problem with a tin of kerosene and a packet of matches.

"But you can't, because he isn't some evil creature you can hunt. He's a normal person, just like you. Granted, he may dress differently, but he's still a person; and that's just something you're going to have to live with."

Silence reigned after that statement. It wasn't until Dean ran a hand over his face and joined Sam at the table that it was broken.

"It's not that Sam. Well, it is, but..." He regrouped. "I know he's normal. And when I look at him, I kinda see it. What my life would be without hunting, y'know? Working at a shop with three beautiful women, not having to worry about anything." He muttered, "I just wish he wouldn't wear the friggin' kilt."

Sam didn't reply, just absorbed what Dean said. True, he'd already known about a life free of hunting from his experience with the djinn, but there's a difference between being inserted into a life and being told it's yours, and _seeing_ youself living said life.

His musings were interrupted by Dean, who acted as though nothing had been said.

"So, what say we find out who Casperette was before she comes back for Julia?"

 

=.=

 

Dean returned to the library around sunset, having ducked out at lunchtime to grab some lunch, and not been seen since. When he tossed a sub to Sam, Sam figured out both the where and why. He just wished he'd brought it back five hours ago like he was supposed to.

He also pulled a scrunched up piece of paper out of his pocket and dropped it in front of the computer. Sam unravelled it to find a picture of both him and Dean, with a note to contact the police if sighted. When Sam looked to Dean, he explained.

"Henricksen's been putting them up all over town. Had to dodge him twice."

Sam looked around the very public library and blanched.

"I wouldn't worry about it. They didn't track me here and I figure we got two more hours before they shut up for the night. No one's been here all day, right? I doubt they're going to start coming in now."

"What about the librarian?"

"We'll just have to kill her," Sams' eyes shot to Dean's. "I'm kidding Sam, alright. Anyway, the posters are all outside; we'll be gone before she ever sees 'em." He nodded to the computer. "So, what have we got?"

Slightly distracted, Sam turned back to the computer. "Listen to this: in 1956 a string of deaths baffle Australian police-"

"Woah woah woah, wait a minute - Australia?"

"Yeah, and it's the same M.O. All young girls; all drowned without water. And before that, it was England, then France... Greece."

"So what's the first one?"

Sam alternated between windows. "The first was in England. 1882, Six year old Amelia Lourden was found in a pool by her eight year-old sister Leslie. Apparently the cause of death was accidental."

"And yet she's a spirit, so I'm guessing not so much an accident." Dean mused.

Sam agreed. "And she's targeting eight year-olds, I think we know who she blamed for her death."

"A six year-old, pissed off spirit." Dean shook his head. "That still leaves one question."

"How'd she get here?" At Dean's nod, Sam's frowned. "I don't know, maybe something of hers was passed down as an heirloom, and the family's moved around? But what heirloom? And what family?"

"Oh great, so it's time to go looking for a needle in a stack of needles." Dean stood up. "I need a break."

"Dude, come on. You just got back and you're bailing on me?"

"It's getting dark, and someone's gotta look after Piper's kid, make sure Amelia doesn't come back for her."

Sam scoffed, "Right, and this has nothing to do with maybe running into Tish."

"If she happens to be there, there's nothing I can do. Besides, you like research anyway, Nerds of Steel."

"Why don't we settle this the old-fashioned way?"

Dean paused and looked at Sams' hands, already in the starting position. He considered it.

And laughed.

Nope, no way was he going to risk this one.

He walked out of the library, an annoyed Sam in his wake.

 

=.=

 

That night, Dean, Priestly and Noah all stood in the lounge room, the last two slightly anxious, and holding shotguns full of rock salt, while Piper and Tish sat with Julia in between them. To help ease the nerves, Noah had found a deck of cards and the girls were currently playing fish. Dean, from his vantage point behind the elder two women, was helping Julia cheat by holding up fingers of a number he saw in their hands when they weren't looking.

When Priestly shook his head, Tish figured it out, and she sent him a look as she gathered hers closer.

As nine-fifteen grew closer, all pretences at playing the game gradually subsided until they were just sitting there silently, the cards in a mess between them. Dean told the men only to shoot if it was away from other people, he'd do the rest. (Lest they miss her and someone gets a face of rock salt.)

The tension mounted as the silence stretched, and it wasn't until Dean realised that the power had yet to flicker that he double-checked his watch.

9:17.

Hunh.

Dean flipped his phone open and dialled Sam. "Did you get her?"

" _What? No, I was in the library until two hours ago._ "

The implications of her not coming back, and at the same time not being dead sunk in. "Oh crap, she went after someone else."

Half a conversation was enough for the parents in the room, and they lowered their eyes in sympathy for the unknown child that lost their life while theirs was being protected.

" _Dean, I hate to break it to you, but it's worse than that._ "

"How can it be worse?"

There was a gap on the line as Sam gave a long-suffering sigh.

" _Henricksen._ "


	7. Chapter 7

"Okay, so I did some digging on how she could be moving around, then realised that there is one thing that all the murders had in common. At the same time the deaths occurred, there was an exhibit at the local museum on the Victorian Era. I checked the articles on display and there is," he held up a print-out of a hairclip, "one hairclip, as well as some other things, from the Lourden family."

They were settled back in the motel, same as the night previous while Sam recounted his livelier evening, while Dean was out not-protecting an innocent girl from a ghost.

"Wait, so how did you connect the murders to the museum?"

Sam shrugged. "It just made sense. The murders moved around; museum exhibits move around..."

Dean, not being able to come to the same conclusion, gave his brother the patented 'freak' look. "You do know that's not normal, right?"

Sam ignored that comment. "Anyway, I checked the listings and it turns out there are two museums in Santa Cruz: the Natural History Museum and the Museum of Modern History and Contemporary Society."

"So which one's the hairclip in?"

"I don't know, but that's not the problem."

Dean looked up from his magazine, their earlier conversation at the forefront of his mind. "Henricksen?"

Sam nodded. "I passed by one on the way back from the diner and noticed two cops watching the perimeter, in addition to the museum's security guards."

"How did he know?"

Sam looked down, mumbling, "I may have mentioned something about museums to the librarian."

"You _what_?"

"Look, I'm sorry, alright? But I didn't say what we were looking for, and I didn't say which museum, so I don't think Henricksen knows which one we're after."

Dean gave him a look. "Sammy, I can't _believe_ you-"

Sam cut him off, "I said I'm sorry Dean."

Dean looked up and unknowingly fell into the trap of the puppy-dog eyes. He sighed. "What about the other one? Is it guarded too?"

Back to business. "Yeah, but undercover. Two in a car out front, and the others are inside out of sight, possibly as a trick."

"Hmmm." Dean went back to his magazine. "So, which one are we hitting?"

"Dean," Sam waited until Dean looked back up again. "It doesn't matter which, there's no way we can get in either of them. There are guards posted at each entrance, obvious or not. And I think it's fair to assume that they're waiting for us."

"So basically we're screwed."

"Maybe not..."

Dean looked up. The look on Sam's face was clue enough. "No. No way. Not gonna happen. Not in a million years."

 

=.=

 

"...So basically you can see the problem," Sam explained to an open-mouthed Priestly while Dean leaned against the wall, arms folded and a bitter expression on his face.

"So, let me get this straight," Tish took a breath. "You want Priestly to go into a museum and steal some artefact because the cops are expecting Dean to steal said artefact, but won't suspect someone who looks exactly like him to do the exact same thing which, no matter the situation, is still illegal?"

"I'm not stealing anything." Priestly said.

Dean banged his head against the wall and Sam exhaled. "Look, we're not asking you to steal anything. No offence, but you probably won't be able to get it anyway. We just need a diversion. If you're spotted on the other side of town, the cops will have to check it out, just to make sure it IS you and not Dean. When they find out it is, they'll let you go. We just need that short time they're focused on you to slip in and get the job done."

"So you're just planning to draw them away?" Priestly clarified.

"Well, not all of them," Dean interjected, "We figure some will stay behind. But one or two tops is a helluva lot better than having one or two at each entrance."

"How do they even know you're going there?" Jen looked between them.

"Henricksen is smart," Dean answered. "But I don't think he knows we're going to that specific museum, which is why he's put undercover cops on one and guards on the other. He's pretending to overlook it."

"But aren't they looking for _both_ of you?" Piper asked, turning to Sam. "Won't they realise it's a ruse when they see you? Because they figure Dean would be with you?"

"And you can't go with Priestly, because they'll just arrest both of you. Even when they find out he isn't Dean, he's going to get stuck with aiding and abetting," Jen added.

"Hmm, you're right." Sam conceded.

Dean's eyes narrowed. Sam was a boy genius, there was no way he hadn't already considered that possibility. He was leading up to something, Dean knew.

And when Sam's eyes met Dean's, he _knew_.

"No."

"Dean, I'm not seeing a whole lot of options here."

"That's because you don't want to." Dean accused. "There are plenty of other ways to get in there."

"Oh really? Name one?"

Dean paused. "Give me a minute."

"Dean," Sam reared back and smack him with logic. Hard. "It's the easiest and safest way for everyone involved. Not to mention the quickest. If we don't do something soon, there's going to be another death."

Dean shook his head and Priestly found himself reminded of the time when he was five and his mother made him give up his favourite bike because he'd rode off the breaks. He tried to think of something to say that would convince her to let him keep it, to find a way out of the situation he was in. And from the look on Dean's face, he was trying to do the exact same thing. And in that moment, Dean kind of looked like he was five years old, too.

"There has to be something..."

Dean straightened, a smile on his face. "I got it!"


	8. Chapter 8

The museum wasn't crowded. Which, when you thought about it, was logical considering people didn't drive two hours to the coast just to look in a museum.

There were two police officers posted at the entrance (and two more visible in the foyer). They surveyed the area as a somewhat mismatched couple approached.

"Remind me again why I'm here?" Tish asked.

"Emotional support?"

Tish glanced at the smile that was just definably Priestly, and couldn't help but roll her eyes.

As they neared the bottom of the steps, she whispered. "Do I have to do anything?"

"Well," He whispered back, just low enough so that she had to lean close to hear. "You could stop whispering, it might give us away. Morning officers," He greeted.

The nearest one concentrated on him, looked him up and down - from his green and black striped hair, to his baggy jeans - before dismissing him and doing the same to Tish (though considerably slower), and he could tell the cop was wondering how he got so lucky.

He cocked an eyebrow, slung an arm around Tishs' shoulders and smiled as he very quickly made his way into the building, before the second cop could see his face. He didn't think throwing Tish in front of her would work as well as it did with the male officer.

The other two guarding the inside were a little more on the ball. He widened his eyes dramatically as they approached.

"Is there a problem officers?"

The first, a burly fellow, was slightly taller than him and had a moustache that screamed Super Mario. The second was considerably smaller, leaner, and had pasty blond hair that stuck to his face. He looked like he'd just graduated out of the academy.

"Can we see some I.D. please?" Mario enquired, but it was lacking the politeness one usually gave someone they didn't suspect to be a fugitive. Henricksen had covered his bases.

He dug into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet, flipping the licence in the policeman's face. When the cop looked back at him, he looked around suspiciously for a second before feigning innocence.

Hook, line and sinker the cop bought his 'I'm not guilty' guilty act and told him to stay put, while he walked away and talked on the radio. The gangly officer looked back at him, unsure.

He nodded. "Hey."

The blond hesitated. "Uh, hey."

"Priestly," He offered his hand.

The kid looked back at his partner, trying to decide if it was okay to talk to him. Eventually he shook his hand. "Carter."

He smiled. "Priestly's my last name."

"So's Carter. Mine, I mean."

They shared a brief laugh, which was halted by the return of Super Mario.

"The FBI's going to be here to talk to you in a minute."

"What!?"

Tish exclaimed at the same time he moaned, "Again?"

Tish's outburst was ignored by the elder officer. "What do you mean, 'again'?"

"Two days ago I rang up about two guys holding up our store, trying to do the right thing. And they haul _me_ down for questioning. Seriously, we don't look _that_ much alike."

"I beg to differ," a new voice remarked.

Turning around, they saw Henricksen striding across the lobby with Reidy in tow. _Man, does he move fast_. When they stopped in front of him, he straightened up.

Henricksen tilted his head. "Actually, truth be told, you two are barely a... hair's breadth apart."

"Aha, funny. A comedic genius, you are."

Victor smiled, but the tone was down to business. "What are you doing here, _Priestly_?"

 _Dude, no need to sully the name_. "I live here. What about you? Thinking of moving to Santa Cruz? Surf's good. Weather.... alright."

The smile was gone. "Do you think I'm in the mood to sit here and listen to your smart mouth?"

"He's not," Reidy supplied.

"Now, unless you want me to arrest you for obstructing an investigation and possible aiding and abetting - how about you tell me what you're doing here?"

"I'm taking my girl out on a date." And to emphasise the point, he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

Tish yelped.

Henricksen looked at her. "Is that so?"

Not having actually been told anything except to come here with him, Tish stammered out a, "Y-yeah. We're on a date," that sounded shaky to everyone present.

Henricksen's gaze returned to him and a game of chicken began.

After a minute of piercing glare - or wide-eyed blinking, on his part - the radio crackled;

"Henricksen, suspects sighted in the Natural History Museum."

Henricksen kept his gaze steady as Reidy covered the radio.

"Are you sure it's them?"

"Yes, facial confirmation. They entered through the roof, and are on the third floor. Should we move in?"

Reidy looked to Henricksen for confirmation, who was still busy trying to stare his slightly annoyed suspect down. A beat, and Henricksen nodded.

As Reidy and the others began to clear out, Henricksen told the original officers to remain behind and watch them.

The foyer was quiet for a whole minute.

"Yep, this week just keeps getting better and better."

 

=.=

 

They looked around the museum, actually taking the tour partly to avoid suspicion from the two cops conspicuously tailing them, and partly because they'd both never actually been in a museum before.

However, not being academically minded, the shine quickly wore off and they decided not to follow the mildly enthused group into the next room.

It was five minutes later when the younger officer stuck his head in the Victorian exhibit to see them making out against a meticulously designed table.

Carter coughed, and was greeted with an annoyed. "What?"

"Umm..." Carter gestured to the sign that asked people refrain from touching the displays.

"Dude, don't ruin this for me. Ten minutes, that's all I'm asking."

Carter thought about it a minute, before smiling and ducking back out of the room.

He turned back to Tish, and was about to resume their previous activity when she laid a hand on his chest.

"Don't you think we should... y'know..."

"Honey," Dean grinned, "We've got seven minutes to spare."


	9. Chapter 9

Henricksen arrived at the Museum of Natural History to find Sam & Dean Winchester face-planted to the hood of the unmarked toyota, their rights just finished being read to them.

"Hey guys, how's it going?" A smug smirk stamped his features.

"Not bad," Sam replied. "What about you?"

Henricksen looked at Dean. "Couldn't be better."

Dean leaned over to Sam and whispered, "Is he gay?"

Sam snorted.

"Put them in the car, let's get them down to the station A-sap. Wouldn't want to keep you boys waiting for your life inprisonment, now would we?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because that worked so well last time."

"Life inprisonment, death - that depends on whichever state gets ahold of you boys. I don't really mind as long as you're off the streets." Henricksen shrugged.

"Hey, can you not make me ride with him?" Sam jerked his head in Dean's direction. "He had burritos for lunch and I don't think you'll let us roll down the windows."

Henricksen's only reply was a smile as they were shuffled into the cruiser, Dean tripping on what appeared to be his own shoes.

It wasn't until they had turned the corner that Henricksen contemplated Sam's remark. And then froze, because it was _Sam's_ remark. Not Dean's. Dean was always the cocky one, Sam the quieter. Dean took the lead, Sam was the follower. Yet aside from one remark, that wasn't even directed at him, he'd remained silent through the whole exchange.

Henricksen looked at the place where Dean displayed an uncharacteristic amount of klutz, and remembered Priestly in the foyer. How he turned when Henricksen arrived, keeping both his contingent and the two previously present guards in his line of sight. How he straightened and met his stare unflinchingly, albeit mockingly.

"Shit."

 

=.= **_Four Hours Earlier _** =.=

 

"Man, I feel like punching myself," Dean grumbled.

Priestly rolled his eyes. "Just shutup man and sit still, unless you want me to poke your eye out."

Dean glared. "Tell me again why we couldn't go with my plan?"

Sam sighed. They'd been over this before. "Because it was stupid."

"It wasn't stupid."

"Seriously dude, no one would have fallen for it."

"They might have," Dean pouted.

Sam looked up at him and couldn't stop the smile from escaping. He did, however, tone it down from a full-blown, shit-eating, ' _that canary is mine, bitch'_ grin to an ' _I'm trying so very hard not to laugh_ '. "Suck it up and quit sulking. The sooner that Priestly's done your eyes, the sooner we can go."

Dean made the mistake of looking in the mirror. His hair was black with slightly a longer green stripe, sticking up in a line from his forehead to his neck; like a burst of grass shooting out from emo ground. Having no actual piercings, Jen had run down to the mall and purchased some fake earrings, which were now on his ears, nose and chin. Piper, the resident artist, had found some henna and worked her magic in the form of the numerous tattoos adorning his arms and neck.

Tish had reluctantly done her part and went to Priestly's place and picked up some of his clothes. Dean was now wearing a baggy pair of jeans, with numerous chains attached, and a shirt which proclaimed, "Only retards wear their collars up." (Sam had found it hilarious.)

His eye twitched.

Sam saw it and the corner of his mouth turned up. "If you want, I can get you the kilt?"

"If you want, I can beat your head in."

"If I say yes, will you wear the kilt?"

Dean's reply was cut off by Priestly's declaration that he was finished. "Finally." Dean jumped up from the chair as though his new appearance was attached to it.

"Alright," Dean cracked his knuckles and reached for the razor, "Your turn."

Priestly eyed the razor warily. "Do I have to?"

"I suffer, you suffer."

Ten minutes later with his hair shorn, makeup removed, and dressed in one of Deans' Ts and jeans, Priestly looked in the mirror and his eye twitched.

Sam, noticed this one too, and was puzzled. "Queer."

Dean took this as a comment on his new look and glared. "Bitch."

"Jerk."


	10. Chapter 10

Officer Maddell eyed the two prisoners in the back seat warily. Sam and Dean Winchester. Dangerous, they were. Murderers.

He turned to his partner, Sid, who was driving and noticed that he too snuck a glance in the mirror every so often. It wasn't every day that fugitives such as these two were found in Santa Cruz, and they were slightly unsure with how to treat them.

"Dude, you want to take the corners a little easier?"

Choosing to ignore their captive's request, they veered around the next turn at their usual pace, and saw the taller of the two slide into his brother, who was looking a little green around the gills.

 _Aww crap_ , Maddell sighed, and gestured for Sid to ease up a bit. The last thing they needed was for some perp to barf all over the back seat.

The ride continued in silence for another thirty seconds before the shorter spoke again.

"Hey, I don't mean to be a bother, but can you pull over for a minute?"

Sid laughed, sneaking a glance in his rearview. Maddell saw that the young man's condition hadn't improved (if anything, it was getting worse) and didn't even crack a smile. "Sid, I think you better pull over a second."

It takes a very special person to say so much without ever opening their mouth, and when Sid looked at him, he managed to convey, ' _The hell is wrong with you? You have to have some kind of leak in your brain to even contemplate helping these guys out,_ ' all with a raised eyebrow and a slightly open mouth.

When Maddell informed him about the situation, and that he didn't have to let them out, just stop for a minute, Sid gave a weary sigh and pulled to the kerb.

It took several minutes for Dean to calm down enough for them to start driving. And in that time FBI Agent Reidy could be heard on the radio, warning them not to let the criminals go. Sid scoffed, like it was in their planner or something.

When hazel eyes nodded, Sid was about to pull out when he was halted by a tapping on Maddell's window.

Said tapper's face was out of sight; as they were standing right in front of the window, and Maddell had no choice but to wind it down to speak. Before he could get a word in, the stranger leaned down and smiled. "Evenin' officers."

Before they could contemplate how the man who was supposed to be arrested was also chatting to them from outside the car, a small, red dart sank into each of their shoulders, and within minutes they were both asleep.

 

=.=

 

The ride back to the BCG was filled with Dean informing them that the spirit was toast as he removed all the accessories he no longer needed. Priestly noted that while Dean still affected the makeup and piercings, he was already wearing another shirt, and was about to ask what happened to his when Dean, almost sensing the question, looked his way and shook his head no, telling him that there some residue from the spirit that had smeared all over the shirt and to trust him; Priestly wouldn't have wanted it back.

He then changed tracks and proceeded to tell Priestly of everything he did whilst he was at the museum, should Henricksen try to pull him in for questioning again.

Dean waited until Tish had left the car when he got to his favourite part, the make-out session, and Dean didn't miss the look that flittered across Priestly's face like the breeze. He let the subject drop for the moment, but brought it back up while Sam distracted the others with the good news, of which Piper and Noah were extremely grateful.

Dean, after washing the temporary dye out of his hair in the sink, had obtained a towel from God knows where and was sidling over to Priestly who was leaning against the counter, watching the others interact. Back to his normal self (though Priestly couldn't see the need to abruptly change his appearance, he'd do it when he got home) Dean unconsciously mimicked Priestly's stance, and dropped the towel on the bench.

Not able to think of a subtle way to introduce the topic, Dean merely stated, "So, you and Tish? I'm sorry man, I didn't know."

"There's nothing to know. There is no 'me and Tish'."

Dean nodded. "But you like her."

It wasn't a question, so Priestly didn't answer it.

The silence carried on for a bit before Dean sighed.

"Look man, there's something you should know." When Priestly looked up, he continued. "The whole time I was here, it only really started at the museum."

_Yeah, so?_

Dean read the look on his face and elaborated. "I didn't really look my glamorous self then."

Priestly froze. Dean didn't look normal then, he looked like Priestly. Make-up, hair and piercings all, and she still went for it. _That means that it isn't his appearance that's putting her off, it's..._

"So I think you got a shot."

Priestly was jolted out of his inner dialogue. "What?"

"I said, since she's not put off by your freaksome attire, you've still got a shot."

Priestly snorted. "Yeah, right."

Dean was puzzled. "Dude, what's wrong with you? I just told you she's got no problem with someone who literally looks exactly like you. Stupid hair, useless piercings and freakin' _eyeliner_ and she still doesn't care. The hell you blowin' that off for? I thought you wanted her."

"I do," Priestly confessed wearily. "But you said it yourself; she went for you. You, who looks exactly like me, but isn't. I've been here this whole time, and she never once considered it. You show up and in three days you're necking her in a museum. That means it has nothing to do with the physical, she just doesn't want _me_."

Dean took a moment to digest this, and when he had he looked Priestly dead in the eye. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah."

"Absolutely sure?"

Priestly considered. "Ninety percent sure."

Dean squared his shoulders. "Look, I don't do chick flick moments, that's Sammy's thing. I will tell you this: The only way you're going to find out if you have a shot with her is if you walk up to that woman, tongue the sweet fuck out of her, and then wait for the reaction."

Dean appraised him. "Personally, I think she'll have you on the floor in half a minute."

 

=.=

 

The brothers had left not long after that. Smiles and handshakes all round. Two subs on the house, one with extra onions. And a phone number in case any weird shit started up again.

Priestly watched Tish as they closed up shop for the night. Everyone else had gone home, and she was just about to open the door when he decided to take Dean's advice. Throwing caution to the wind, he hoped against hope that his twin was right.

He wasn't.

It only took her fifteen seconds to get him on the floor.


	11. Epilogue

As they walked out of the Beach City Grill for the last time in a long time to come, Sam decided to play it casual, "So I rang the hospital in Lawrence." Okay, maybe not subtle. Who cares. "And they said that Dean Winchester only ever had one sibling, a younger brother."

As they approached the car, Dean knew he should thank Sam for covering all bases where his clone was concerned. For calling; for finding out the one thing Dean had been hesitant - almost scared -  to do. Instead he just looked back at the store, where his double was joking with the others, and feigned puzzlement. "Sammy, are you trying to tell me you were adopted?"

As they both seated themselves in the car, Sam accepted the unspoken thanks and replied in the only way a Winchester knew how. "Jerk."

Dean started the car. "Bitch."

The trip was made in companionable silence as they exited the town, happy to be away from Henricksen yet again. It was only when they passed the city limits that something occurred to Sam, and a coy smiled played his lips as regarded the scenery.

"So, what really happened to Priestly's shirt?"

The look on Dean's face as he struggled to come up with a reply was enough to let Sam know that Dean had resorted to his usual fail-safe when confronted with things he thought were evil.

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "You burned it!?"

"Shut up."

 

=.=

 

Piper was the last to arrive the next morning. Tish was already brewing coffee while Priestly wiped the dishes Jen washed.

When the customary greetings were over, a silence had settled over the shop. A familiar and yet strained silence, as they each had something to say, but weren't willing to speak up.

After a few minutes, Piper crumbled. "So, they're gone."

Priestly nodded.

"It's just... I don't know." Piper looked around. "It's like I'm waiting for something else to happen."

"I know what you mean," Tish said, "It's as though the whole world's changed and now everything's different. I mean, ghosts are real. Who'd've thought?"

Priestly put the last of the dishes away and threw the tea towel over his shoulder. "John Edwards?"

His answer was met with the obligatory eye roll.

"And to think," Jen added, "there's a much better version of Priestly out there. It boggles the mind."

Priestly looked at her. There was something he had to... _ahh, that's right_. He raised his hands towards her neck. "Jen, come here a minute..."

She wasn't listening. In fact, she had turned deathly pale. Priestly was about to make a ghost joke - which would be even funnier now because hey, real! - when she opened her mouth. And after all he'd witnessed in the last week, her words chilled him more than any restless spirit;

"Does that mean there's a better version of me out there?" She sounded lost; a little girl on the verge of breaking.

When the silence stretched on longer than he cared for, Priestlys' hands went from mock strangulation to embracing Jen.

"Listen here Jen: even if there is someone out there who looks like you. And they could be a friggin' saint, or some sort of psycho invisible murderer-"

Tish blinked and mouthed, 'invisible?'

Priestly ignored it and ploughed on. "-it doesn't matter. Because as far as we're all concerned, you're the one that's here with us. The one that's too nice for her own good. The indisputable 'better' one."

The others nodded in agreement, and Jen looked up at him, hopeful and yet slightly hesitant. So he added,

"Just like I am."

The female portion of the store all snickered in unison, and he smiled at each of them in turn, his gaze lingering on Tish. She saw his smile and raised him a smirk. Then she inclined her head to the bathroom, before striding oh-so purposefully past him.

_Oh, things had definitely changed alright._

Priestly made sure Jen and Piper were both distracted before he threw the towel off his shoulder and followed.

Yep, just another day in what he liked to call his own little slice of heaven.


End file.
